


Interruption

by Desdimonda



Category: StarCraft
Genre: Drug Use, M/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-05-06 00:18:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5395526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desdimonda/pseuds/Desdimonda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Artanis walks in on Alarak having some rest and relaxation with Terrazine on the bridge of the Spear of Adun in the middle of the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interruption

Artanis stepped inside the bridge of the Spear Adun, expecting to remain alone. But he found another, reclined lazily atop the terminal, surrounded by a thick haze of purple. It dappled the air around him, and slithered through his cords, still adorned in their intricate metal adornments. His armour lay discarded by the floor, and it exposed his torso, nicked with several scars, obscured by the vague lights of the room and the haze of Terrazine.

The Heirarch paused, clicking shut the door as he surveyed the Tal’darim stretched out lazily before him, making the room his own, without permission.

But Alarak did not need permission.

“Must you do this here?” asked Artanis, taking a step forward. He wore little of his armour this night and was draped in a simple white and gold robe that he wore beneath his finery.

“What better place than the seat of the Heirarch of Daelaam,” said Alarak with a languid, smooth voice, cupping a handful of Terrazine to entwine with his crest. The tips of his cords were dipped within the bowl, and every so often, a little spark of red danced off the end. It sent a ripple of Alarak’s presence and power through the air; Artanis felt it envelop his mind, he felt it swathe across his skin and he felt the smell of Alarak;s power exude from the air. He took another step forward, almost entranced by his aura.

“You could at least ask,” said Artanis glancing at the bowl of Terrazine, rippling as the tip of Alarak’s cords moved.

“A Highlord needs not ask,” he said, drinking in a new, decadent wave of Terrazine, “for anything.”

“You are still a guest on this ship, Alarak,” said Artanis, curling his hands to a fist. “You would do well not to overstep your boundaries.”

The Highlord smirked, tilting back his head as a cloud of Terrazine hovered before his ruby eyes. “I think we are past meagre boundaries, Heirarch,” he said, tilting his head to the side. “Or does taking you in your bed, while you cry out my name stand out with these so called boundaries, Artanis?”

Alarak’s words made Artanis tense, and he looked around the empty bridge for prying company, to find them still alone.

“You speak out of turn,” he said, feeling at once all the fool for his words. Alarak gave no reaction except a slow blink. Artanis took several steps closer, entering the fog of Terrazine. It’s fringes smelled of a flora that was native to the southern hemisphere of Aiur, but as Artanis let the gas circle his body and lick at his skin, the smell grew into something different. It changed, morphed into something he could not even discern. It brought forth memories of battle, of the first draw of blood, of the hum of psi blades, of the clang of metal upon metal; it smelled of war, of the blood-lust of battle.

“Doesn’t it get tiring being so self righteous?” said Alarak as he leaned forward and took Artanis’s hands into his own. The Heirarch made to withdraw by taking a cautious step back, but Alarak tightened his grip. “We are alone. There is no-one to see your shame but ourselves.”

“You do not shame me, Alarak,” said Artanis, kindly.

Alarak smirked, drawing his hands up the Heirarch’s chest. “Of course I don’t,” he said, stroking Artanis’s nerve cords from the ends to the tip, in languid, smooth motions. He saw the flicker in his companions eyes, and the shimmer of his crest change in response. The Heirarch was malleable to his slightest touch. “You take every opportunity to shame yourself.”

Artanis sighed, resting his crest on Alarak’s as he enjoyed the sensations that quivered through his body.

“Something troubles you,” said Alarak, pulling back from their small embrace. He never stayed intimate for long.

“I-I just question whether the decisions I make are the right ones, if we will win this war. And if I should even be Heirarch and lead my people,” began Artanis, watching Alarak as he poured some more concentrated Terrazine in the vial where his cords sat, the tip stained a vibrant purple. He watched his lovers eyes flicker as a renewed surge of the Terrazine consumed his psionic energies. Artanis felt it wash over his skin; he could not deny the swathe of desire it stirred within him.

Alarak laughed gently. “Those are three very different issues, Artanis.” Alarak leant back onto his hands, simply enjoying the renewed surge of the drug as it clawed through his cords, across his skin and stirred his blood. “Do you want advice, comfort, or honesty?” Alarak lifted a hand as Artanis began to speak. “Actually, let me just choose for you. You make the right decisions, but you deliberate for far too long which in effect can turn those decisions into the wrong ones-”

The Heirarch made to interrupt him, but Alarak held up his hand once more, his elongated, black claw curling under Artanis’s chin. The Heirarch shivered from the touch. He edged closer, cursing the distance Alarak had put between them.

“We will win,” said Alarak, his ruby eyes narrowing to a slit, “you have me.” He paused to drink in another swathe of the Terrazine; the tip of his cords sparking once more, casting a reddish glow between the two Protoss. “As for if you are fit to rule. As I look at you now, I cannot say you are-”

Artanis hit away Alarak’s hand, and he turned to leave. The Terrazine was boiling his blood; it was spiking his psionic energy and he knew if he stayed any longer it would come down to two things: fight or fuck. “I shouldn’t expect any more from you,” said Artanis as he felt Alarak pull him back by the wrist. They collided, the cloud of Terrazine swarming around their bodies, alight with energy.

“You never learn do you, Heirarch,” began Alarak, spinning Artanis around so his back collided with the table. The vial of Terrazine spilled over the terminal, covering their skin. “Never interrupt me.”

Artanis shuddered as the drug seeped through his skin. Alarak’s nerve cords draped over his chest, tantalisingly, as he pinned down the Heirarch’s arms. Artanis moaned against his lover’s neck, drinking in his scent. “Much of what you say warrants interruption,” goaded Artanis, with words tinged by Terrazine.

Alarak laughed, sinking his claws into his lover’s back. “I would be offended by your scathing words, but I know that it is the Terrazine talking and not you,” he said, parting Artanis’s legs with his knee.

“Why are you with me if you do not think I am even worthy of being Heirarch?” said Artanis, his words broken by his rising desire. It pushed through to the surface, breaking his rigid exterior. He latched onto the Highlord with desperate, cloying hands, the surge of Terrazine igniting his desire almost ten fold. Alarak had let free his pinned arms to tear off what little clothing they wore below the waist.

“With you?” said Alarak as he pulled Artanis towards him by his thighs, claws nicking the the taut skin. “I fuck you. I’m not with you. Remember that, Heirarch.”

“I’ll change your mind,” said Artanis as he gripped Alarak’s nerve cords with his hands and gave them a rough pull. Artanis’s blue eyes shimmered in trepidation.

Alarak moaned as Artanis pulled his cords, delighting in the sensation that jolted through his body. For all the pleasantries that this young, rigid, idealistic Templar spoke and did, he knew exactly how to please the Highlord. Maybe, just maybe, he could change his mind.

“Lost for words?” said Artanis, pulling Alarak close so that their shimmering crest’s touched. A bright hue of red, akin to the Highlord’s eyes glowed from each of their foreheads as they met. “I like it when you’re silent. You should try it more often.”

Alarak smirked. “I like you on Terrazine,” he said as he slid his hand between Artanis’s legs, taking his slick arousal into his hands, but not before teasing his slit with two clawed fingers. The Heirarch cried out, unashamed, against his lover. “You should try it more often,” he echoed, unable to wait a moment longer for what he wanted. He gripped Artanis by the hips and guided him roughly towards his hard arousal, sinking himself deep inside the Heirarch with little warning.

Artanis shuddered, trying to regain his composure as Alarak thrust once, twice, thrice; harder every time. He reached out to hold onto the Highlord, but Alarak refused and pushed his lover roughly back onto the terminal, lifting a knee to keep him in place. Alarak extended his claws and curved one hand around Artanis’s neck, the tips of his claws nicking the skin, just as he liked.

The tip of his nerve cords draped over Artanis’s chest, staining his skin with the purple of the Terrazine that still surrounded them. It coursed through their bodies, boiling their desire to a peak. Artanis writhed beneath Alarak, his muscles rippling with every thrust, every moan, every cry of his name. He reached out to hold the Highlord, to touch him, to claw him; anything, but Alarak hit away his hand and pinned down his arm.

Artanis lay bound to the terminal, unable to move as Alarak thrust deeply, wildly, unrelenting. He drank in another wave of Terrazine. It sent his psionics awry; he felt the energy spark at his fingertips, he felt the tips of his cords bristle with energy and all through his body surged the pleasure of his lover inside and the drug in his blood. Alarak let slip one of his hands and Artanis took his chance and gripped Alarak’s nerve cord, tightly. Before he tugged on it roughly, Artanis smiled at his lover with his eyes; Alarak echoed the smile, running a thumb across Artanis’s chin. As Artanis pulled on the nerve cords, dappled in purple, Alarak thrust deeper, sliding the Heirarch across the terminal.

Both of them cried out into the night air, so close to their peak of pleasure. Alarak pulled Artanis back to him by his shoulders, his claws sinking into his skin. Artanis arched his back at the searing pain, feeling it sing a glorious tandem to his pleasure. He curled his fingers around Alarak’s cords once more and pulled again. The Highlord thrust, and thrust, and thrust, keeping his lover in place with his claws. Artanis moaned loudly, uncaring about anything or anyone but them.

Alarak watched his lover move beneath him. The way he writhed, his muscles rippling, the shift of his presence, the change of his psionic energies; it drove the Highlord wild. Gone was the stuffy, rigid Heirarch that stood before the Daelaam; here was the languid, submissive Templar, begging for his touch, and he was was his. The shimmer of Artanis’s crest shifted to a light pink; he was about to climax.

“Look at me,” commanded Alarak, leaning down close to his lover.

Artanis obeyed, his bright blue eyes staring into Alarak’s ruby slits as he moaned. “By the gods, Alarak,” said Artanis as he felt himself reach his peak.

The Highlord thrust as hard and as fast as he could, watching his lover climax beneath him. As Artanis shuddered, his body losing itself in swathes of desire, Alarak spent himself inside Artanis, the weight of his body pushing the Heirarch across the terminal as they collapsed into each other in a hot, exhausted, drug addled mess of limbs and desire. Arms and legs wrapped around one another as they lay on top of the terminal, covered in Terrazine and each other.

“Have I changed your mind?” said Artanis, nuzzling his head into the crook of Alarak’s neck.

Alarak said nothing and just held Artanis in his arms, gently caressing his severed cords.

“Your silence is enough,” said Artanis.

Alarak smirked, drinking in the afterglow scent of his lover. “Maybe it is.”


End file.
